


they don't love you like i love you

by bookofleviathan



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Domestic Fluff, Jealousy, M/M, Praise Kink, Trans Male Character, bill is jealous as hell, brief mention of hedges and his weirdness, hickey is coming on to sol, interrupted by agent of chaos cornelius hickey, sol is entirely oblivious, solomon tozer can cook, they fuck about it, to a degree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:00:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25154353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookofleviathan/pseuds/bookofleviathan
Summary: Bill Pilkington is having a bad day, and his boyfriend, Solomon, intends to fix that. His plans may be thwarted, however, when an unexpected guest shows up for dinner. Can Sol make it up to Bill?
Relationships: William Pilkington/Sgt Solomon Tozer
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	they don't love you like i love you

Bill Pilkington was having a rough day.

His work computer crashed again. He suspected that this was because Hedges (who worked the opposite shift and used the same computer) had been looking at his weird feet websites on-the-clock again. This meant he had to call IT, which he hated, because they always sent Little, whose personality was like if a man had walked nearly a thousand miles, collapsed, and died, and then the dark circles under his eyes had come to life and gotten a computer science degree. It didn’t do any good to explain to Little that he shared the computer; the man seemed intent on judging him based on Hedges’s browser history. It was after lunch before Little got Bill’s computer working again, and he had to work on budget spreadsheets all afternoon, so by quitting time, he was seeing Microsoft Excel every time he closed his eyes. In the car park, there was a massive scratch across the bumper of his Honda Civic, and a note left on the windshield that read _Sorry I hit your car! I’m not giving you my number, I’m just writing this because there’s a cop watching. Good luck with that!_ Technically, it was Friday, but by every other conceivable metric, it had very much been a Monday.

Bill’s mood improved considerably, though, when he unlocked the door to his apartment and stepped into the open-concept combination-living-room-and-kitchen, where he was hit with the smell of garlic and fresh basil. “Hey, there,” Solomon said, looking up from the loaf of bread he was cutting. “Hey,” Bill replied, setting his bag down next to the door, standing on his tiptoes, and kissing Sol on the cheek. They had been living together for a while now, but it was always a pleasant surprise to come home to him. “What are you making?”

“Spaghetti. I know it’s your favorite, and I heard you weren’t having a great day. Hedges again?”

“Hedges again. How did you know?”

“Bryant texted me, said you were in a mood. I figured we could have dinner, watch some Bake Off…”

“And chill?”

“Exactly.”

“Things are looking better already,” Bill said, and kissed him again. “I’m gonna see if there’s anything good on.”

“Go ahead. Dinner’s almost ready, just gotta throw this garlic bread in the oven.”

Bill had just grabbed the remote and was getting ready to sit on their couch and kick his feet up when the doorbell rang.

“Oh, shit. I forgot. I am _so_ sorry,” Sol said, rushing to answer the door.

“What?”

“I invited someone from work to come over for dinner tonight,” Sol said. “I meant to tell you, but I completely forgot.” He opened the door and in strolled Cornelius fucking Hickey, holding a bouquet of roses. “Bill, this is Cornelius Hickey, from building maintenance.”

“I met Cornelius at the Fall Carnivale, remember?” Bill said, coldly. Sol looked confused. He probably _didn’t_ remember. Every Halloween, the whole company got together for what the district manager, Mr. Franklin, insisted on calling the _Fall Carnivale_ , even though all it was was a bunch of desk jockeys in costume getting absolutely plastered and arguing to the beat of whatever the worst DJ in a 50-mile radius was throwing down. Last year, Bill had left Sol for five minutes to get them another round of drinks, and had come back to find newly-employed maintenance worker Cornelius Hickey halfway into Sol’s lap, asking him to come dance. Sol had refused him, and he had apologized, and that had been that, until now.

“Oh, yeah.” Sol said. Hickey grinned. “To be fair, I think we were all a little tipsy by that point. It’s nice to see you, Bill.”

“Nice to see you, too,” Bill said, tersely.

“I brought you these, Sol,” Hickey continued, handing him the flowers. “Didn’t want to show up empty-handed.”

“Dude, thank you! These are awesome. Let me get something to put them in.” Sol bent down to dig through a cabinet. Hickey eyed his backside appraisingly, then looked to Bill and fucking _winked_.

Bill’s face flushed red and his grip on the remote tightened, cracking the plastic. It made a loud, crunching noise, and suddenly all eyes in the room were on him. “Cheap electronics,” he chuckled, “so flimsy. Sol, can I, uh, talk to you for a second? Alone?”

“Sure,” Sol replied, then turned to Hickey. “We’ll be right back. Make yourself at home.”

-

“Are you alright, Bill?”

The question was about 70% rhetorical - Bill had just apparently broken the remote control, asked Sol to talk to him in private, then grabbed him by the shirtsleeve and dragged him down the hall and into their bathroom. Sol expected that he was not, in fact, alright.

“Do you remember,” Bill growled through gritted teeth, “what happened at the Fall Carnivale?”

“That was a misunderstanding.”

“He brought you flowers.”

“He’s just trying to be nice. He’s a friend. Besides, I’m pretty sure he’s with that guy, Gibson, from sales. Wait. Are you jealous?”

“What? No-“

“You are. You’re jealous.”

Bill’s face was bright red. “I’m not _jealous_ , Sol, I just… don’t… think he’s behaving appropriately. That’s all.”

Sol put a hand on Bill’s shoulder. “This is my fault, Bill. I’m sorry. I’ll tell him to leave.”

A moment of silence passed between them, before Bill spoke. “I’m sorry, too,” he said, “I guess I overreacted. He can stay for dinner, but then he has to go, okay?”

“As long as you’re okay with it,” Sol smiled. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” He leaned town to kiss Bill, but just as their lips touched, they were interrupted by the shrill chime of a smoke detector.

-

Dinner went as well as could be expected, considering the unwanted guest who continued flirting with Sol throughout the meal (though Sol was, apparently, completely oblivious to Hickey’s designs), and the fact that the garlic bread, which had been left in the oven on the highest broil setting for about twice as long as it should have been, had the flavor and consistency of seasoned charcoal briquets. Still, Sol’s spaghetti was incredible, as usual, and as soon as dinner was over, Hickey left without incident. Bill and Sol got up from the table and sat together on the couch. Sol yawned. “Hey, can you hand me the remote?”

“Oh. It’s, uh…“ Bill held up its mangled remains, and Sol laughed. “Did you seriously snap the remote in half?”

“He winked at me, okay? He looked at your ass and then he winked at me. I’m telling you, that man has an ulterior motive.”

“Maybe he does. Doesn’t mean he’s gonna get what he wants.”

“So, what? You’re just going to keep hanging out with him until he tries again? Then what?”

“I don’t think he’s going to try again, but if he does, I’ll tell him no. Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do,” Bill sighed, “But… look at you. You could have anyone you wanted. I’m just- afraid you will, is all.”

“I don’t _want_ anyone else, Bill. Not Cornelius, not anyone. I’m sorry if I made you think any different.” Sol stood, then reached a hand out to Bill. “I promised I’d make it up to you,” he said, nodding toward the bedroom door at the end of the hall. “Let’s go.”

“Oh, come on,” Bill complained, playfully kicking Sol as he bent down, picked him up like a bride, and carried him to their bedroom. “No, _you_ come on,” Sol said, laying him down on the bed and straddling his hips. Bill opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by Sol’s lips crashing into his own, his fingers fumbling at Bill’s top button. He worked his way down the placket until all the buttons were free and Bill, whose reluctance had all but evaporated, could shrug the shirt off and toss it to the side. Bill let out a whine when Sol broke their kiss, but it was cut off by a groan when he felt Sol’s mouth, hot as a branding iron, sucking and biting at the place where his neck and shoulder met. “Christ, Sol-“

“Still jealous?”

“You- I swear- _mmph_ ,” Bill found himself interrupted by Sol’s mouth again, this time kissing his nipples and the smile-shaped scars below them. He moved down, pressing kisses to Bill’s abdomen and to the trail of hair below his navel. He unbuttoned Bill’s trousers, tugged them off, and began to mouth at the man’s briefs, already wet with his arousal.

“Sol, _please._ ”

Sol propped himself up and looked at Bill with a cheeky grin. “Please what?”

“God, don’t make me-“

“What do you want me to do, Bill?”

“Shut up and suck me off already, damn it.”

“Admit you’re jealous first.”

“Asshole.”

“Maybe later, if you’re lucky,” Sol winked. “Say it.”

Bill rolled his eyes, but his voice cracked, betraying any frustration in his expression. “Fine! Fine. I’m jealous. _Please_ , Sol.”

Sol grinned, pulled off Bill’s briefs, and took Bill into his mouth. Bill’s back arched and, all thoughts driven out of his mind by Sol’s lips and tongue, grasped at the man’s hair as if for dear life. Sol pulled back a bit and murmured, his beard scratching against the sensitive skin of Bill’s inner thighs, “Feels good, does it?”

“Fuck you,” Bill panted.

“Later, if you’re lucky.”

“You already made that joke.”

“You walked right into it,” Sol said, and before Bill could come up with some snarky comeback, Sol’s fingers were inside him. “Got nothing to be jealous about,” Sol said, bowing his head to swipe his tongue broadly across the head of Bill’s prick and then smiling back up at him. “I only want you, Bill. Let me show you.”

With his free hand, Sol grabbed Bill by the hipbone, hard enough that Bill hoped he’d have bruises in the shapes of Sol’s fingertips the next day, and descended on him. Bill didn’t last long, not with Sol fucking into him with those thick, calloused fingers and doing absolutely sinful things with his tongue besides. After what felt, somehow, like both minutes and hours, Bill came with a poorly-muffled shout. He didn't have time to worry about whether or not the neighbors heard, though, because Sol was moving faster than his train of thought, straddling Bill again and taking his face in his hands. Bill kissed him messily, relishing the taste of himself on his lips, on his tongue, in his fucking _beard_. Sol groaned, grinding his hips against Bill’s. “Only want you,” he growled, voice low and hoarse with desire, “Let me have you.”

“God, yes,” Bill moaned back, moving to unbuckle Sol’s belt. The two of them working together managed to get Sol out of his jeans and boxers, and Sol wasted no time in spreading Bill’s legs, positioning himself just so, and pushing inside. Bill cried out, pushing his hips up to meet Sol’s. Sol leaned over him, kissing him deeply and roughly as he began to set an urgent pace, fucking him like they were running out of time.

Sol came up for air, panting into Bill’s mouth, and reached between them to stroke Bill as he fucked him, making him sob with delicious overstimulation. “Never wanted anyone like I want you, Bill,” Sol groaned, now mouthing at Bill’s jaw. “Wouldn’t trade this for anything. Look at you.” He bit down on the sensitive skin just under Bill's ear. “Perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Forgive you,” Bill stammered, barely coherent now. “Didn’t mean to f-forget you’re… m-mine.”

“Yours,” Sol growled into his ear, his pace growing faster and more erratic. “God, Bill, ‘course I’m yours, always yours, I _love_ you-“ he trailed off, whimpering, as he came, dragging Bill over the edge again with him. He pulled out and Bill sighed at the loss of him, but turned over, allowing Sol to snuggle in behind him, wrapping his arms around Bill’s small frame. “Love you,” he mumbled against the nape of Bill’s neck, nuzzling into his hair, “ _just_ you.”

Bill couldn’t find it in himself to doubt him, not after that. “Love you, too,” he whispered, and drifted off.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time actually writing and posting anything *ahem* naughty, so please forgive my inability to write. Hope you didn't hate it!
> 
> Bill is explicitly trans. I have left descriptions of his, er, bits intentionally vague, using terminology with which I, as a trans guy, am comfortable. He has had top surgery and still has a vagina. Other than that, go nuts (no pun intended) with your interpretation. Also, while you're at it, feel free to read the rest of the characters in this fic as trans, since I have provided no evidence to the contrary.
> 
> Special thanks to the Bold Kois (specifically Elenora, who inspired me to write this in the first place, and Bea and Eliza for helping me figure out that Sol and Bill have a Bake Off addiction).
> 
> The title is from "Maps" by Yeah Yeah Yeahs, which is a perennial favorite of mine and, objectively speaking, fucking slaps.


End file.
